


Not Where We Normally Sleep

by FollowTheFirefly



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: "party" of sorts, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, and reasons why grantaire and Joly shouldn't be allowed to bring alcohol, at least in my mind, bahorel being really chill for once, kinda ooc?, what happens after a party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FollowTheFirefly/pseuds/FollowTheFirefly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bahorel and Jehan Prouvaire wake up on the floor after a night of drinking with some interesting memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Where We Normally Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> So I got this idea at work a few days ago while I was listening to "Last Friday Night" by Katy Perry and this story just sort of wrote itself. Jehan was really fun to write as, too. Thanks for reading!

Bahorel squinted his eyes at the bright morning sun. This was strange enough, as he never slept with the blinds open in his bedroom. He preferred to wake up in his own time, not when nature decided that he should arise and greet the day.

This led to the question of where he was. A quick glance told him that he was in the living room of the apartment he shared with Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Enjolras and Jehan Prouvaire. After another few seconds, he realized that he was on the hard wooden floor behind the couch, though the floor was slightly cushioned by a leopard print fuzzy rug that Courfeyrac had brought when everyone moved into the apartment. 

Something clicked in Bahorel’s mind and he remembered that a bunch of the guys had come over for some drinks after a successful rally. It was a fun night, though Marius and Feuilly had left early, which surprised no one. Feuilly was the working one out of the group and had to work early in the morning and Marius never stayed long at parties to begin with.

Bahorel looked around the living room for a second time, noticing what a state it was in. Beer bottles were scattered around the floor, though there was a pile of bottle caps gathered on the coffee table next to Combeferre’s philosophy textbooks. Courfeyrac had claimed that if the world ever turned out to be like that of the ‘Fallout’ universe, they’d be prepared for anything, yet no one had the heart to tell him that it was a fictional series and not likely to ever occur in real life. Eponine had left a mug of tea sitting on the floor where it was sure to be knocked over at any moment. Pillows were on the floor and the whole apartment needed a good and thorough cleaning.

Enjolras had passed out long before everyone else had gone to sleep, claiming that exhaustion as the excuse. Everyone else knew that he just wanted to go to his room to read and get away from the noise and his extremely drunken boyfriend, but he never actually got that far. He had sat down on the couch to check his phone and fell asleep soon afterwards. He was still in that spot, but now he was joined by Grantaire, who was sleeping and using Enjolras’ chest as a pillow.

Bahorel took another look around the room as he tried to determine where everyone was. Joly was asleep in one of the chairs from the kitchen that Marius had brought out earlier in the evening. It looked like he was sliding out of it, however, and Bahorel wondered how he was still in it in the first place. Courfeyrac had taken up the recliner, arms and legs spread out in very awkward positions as he slept with his mouth hanging open, snoring away. Eponine had curled herself into a ball behind the TV and Combeferre was nowhere to be seen. After a few seconds, Bahorel recalled that he had actually made it to his bedroom to sleep in a proper bed and would find quite a strange scene before him when he awoke and went to check up on his friends.

It was at that moment when Bahorel looked down and saw that Jehan Prouvaire was sleeping next to him.

Perhaps ‘on him’ would be a better phrase, though. For some reason, Jehan was using Bahorel’s knees as pillows, though that was sure to be uncomfortable. Possibly to counteract this, Jehan had pulled Courfeyrac’s ‘Final Fantasy’ blanket (Bahorel was still unsure of how he procured it in the first place) off the back of the couch and had wrapped it around himself.

“Well, it does look pretty comfortable…” Bahorel thought to himself as he stared at Jehan, who looked to be quite content in his peaceful state of sleep.

Now that Bahorel knew where he was, the next logical step seemed to be determining how he ended up on the floor behind the couch with Jehan rather than in his own bed. The last thing that he remembered distinctly was Grantaire cracking open another bottle of vodka which was, in hindsight, not one of his better ideas.

“At least Joly and Eponine brought the good stuff,” Bahorel mused.

But maybe that wasn’t the last thing Bahorel remembered. For some reason, he remembered sitting in Jehan’s bedroom, talking with the poet about something or another. Further still, he had memories of getting quite physical with Jehan, of kissing him and running his fingers through his thick curls and whispering quickened words between breaths. 

His eyes narrowed in confusion. Did that actually happen? Sure, Bahorel harbored romantic feelings for Jehan Prouvaire and had done so for quite some time. Everyone but the poet himself seemed to know that. But Bahorel had sworn never to act upon these feelings since he had a strong suspicion that Jehan was not interested in men. But if he was most certainly not gay and the events in the bedroom had happened, what did that mean?

Bahorel ran his hand through his miraculously still spiked hair as he attempted to sort it all out in his mind. Perhaps he had been wrong in assuming Jehan’s sexuality? He could be hard to read, after all.

But what if Bahorel was right and Jehan was indeed not interested in men? Then Bahorel would have quite a difficult time explaining his actions from the previous night.

If Jehan remembered them at all, that is.

“Maybe he won’t actually remember…” Bahorel thought to himself as he looked down at Jehan. “There’s always a chance of that, right?”

Even as he thought this, Bahorel knew that a part of him wanted the other man to remember what happened, even if his feelings remained reciprocated. The moment, however brief it had been, was certainly important and memorable for Bahorel and he wanted Jehan to remember it as well.

“What the fuck am I meant to do?” he whispered to himself, wondering just how in the world he was going to get himself out of his current predicament.

Perhaps that had not been such a good idea. Jehan shifted slightly from where he slept on Bahorel’s knees. The smaller man looked down at the sleeping poet and found that he was, in fact, beginning to awaken.

“Is that you, ‘Rel?” Jehan asked, the lasting effects of sleep still present in his voice.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Bahorel smiled gently, running his fingers through Jehan’s hair.

“Why am I sleeping on you?” Jehan blinked in confusion. “And why are we on the floor?” 

“Both are unanswered questions, I’m afraid,” Bahorel shrugged in response.

Jehan sat up slowly, trying to shake the last of the sleepy haze from his mind. He looked around the room, trying to figure out what had happened to make him fall asleep on the floor, and Bahorel could swear that he could see the little gears turning in his mind as his brain tried to work out a solution.

“Must’ve been some night,” Jehan muttered, trying to keep his voice down so as to not wake their friends. “Maybe letting Joly and Eponine bring that vodka wasn’t a good idea,” 

“I dunno about that,” Bahorel said, thinking of the events of the previous night and longing to be that close to Jehan again. If both men hadn’t been so drunk, would those events still had taken place?

“Why, did something happen?” Jehan frowned, eyes on the smaller man.

Bahorel felt his heart sink and turned his eyes away from Jehan. It was as he feared. Jehan had no recollection of the previous night.

“’Rel?” Jehan used the name that Bahorel so despised, but secretly enjoyed hearing from Jehan’s lips. “What’s wrong?”

“Hmmm?” Bahorel turned towards the other man, his thoughts interrupted.

“Something happened, didn’t it?” Jehan shifted so that his body was facing towards Bahorel’s. 

Bahorel’s eyes drifted downwards and he said, “Yes.”

“It wasn’t me, was it?” Jehan sounded genuinely worried, something that alarmed Bahorel. “I didn’t do anything to hurt you, did I? Because you know I’d never mean it-”

“No, you do anything like that, Jehan,” Bahorel assured him.

“What, then?” Jehan’s eyes showed his concern and mounting confusion.

Bahorel took a deep breath, deciding that Jehan needed to know the truth.

“What do you remember about last night?”

“Well, we all got pretty drunk. I’m amazed that I don’t have a killer hangover, to be honest,” Jehan said. “Then we went back to my bedroom and-”

“Wait, you do remember?” Now it was Bahorel’s turn to be confused.

“I remember kissing you, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Jehan responded, eyebrows arched.

“I see…” Bahorel muttered to himself.

“Was that not okay?” Jehan moved closer to Bahorel so that he was sitting next to the smaller man.

“No, it was perfectly fine,” Bahorel shook his head. “But now I’m just confused.”

“About what?” Jehan asked patiently.

“Well, I never thought that you’d be interested in men, much less me,” Bahorel admitted.

“You never asked me, ‘Rel,” Jehan assured him, putting a hand on Bahorel’s knee. “And why on earth wouldn’t I find you attractive?”

“Because I’m not smart like Enjolras or good looking like Courfeyrac,” Bahorel answered.

“But I think you are. In your own way,” Jehan leaned over and pressed his lips to Bahorel’s for a few seconds before backing away slowly, eyes on Bahorel. “Should I not have done that?” 

“No, it’s okay,” Bahorel smiled. “So what do we do now?” 

“What do you mean?” Jehan asked.

“Well, what happens now?” Bahorel rephrased his question. “We both have feelings for each other, right?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Jehan look Bahorel’s hand in his.

What could have been an otherwise intimate moment was shattered when the two men noticed that Courfeyrac stirring from where he lay across the recliner. He blinked a few times before he looked around the room, discovering that Bahorel and Jehan Prouvaire were also awake. 

“What a night, huh?” Courfeyrac failed to stifle a yawn.

Jehan and Bahorel exchanged glances before Jehan responded.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he ran his fingers through his hair, his hand now separated from Bahorel’s for the time being. 

“What’s going on with you two?” Courfeyrac eyed the two suspiciously.

“Nothing, Courf,” Bahorel responded.

“Is someone else awake?” came Eponine’s voice from behind the TV.

“Morning, ‘Ponine,” Bahorel offered her a short wave.

“Morning, boys,” Eponine rubbed her eyes sleepily. “So we’re just waiting on Joly and the drunkard and his boyfriend to wake up, right?”

“Basically,” Jehan nodded.

“Can I wake up R and Enjolras?” Courfeyrac asked.

“And Combeferre’s still in his room,” Bahorel told Eponine before he added to Courfeyrac, “No, you may not.”

“Why not?” Courfeyrac pouted.

“Because Enjolras will throw something at you and you know it,” Eponine told Courfeyrac as she climbed out from behind the TV.

“Maybe not…” Courfeyrac said hopefully.

“He did the last time, remember?” Eponine told him.

Jehan took the opportunity to grab Bahorel’s hand and the two walked into the smaller man’s bedroom.

“So what are we doing here?” Bahorel asked as they sat down on the bed, Bahorel at the head and Jehan at the foot.

“Your room is closer and I want to talk about this,” Jehan said, eyes on Bahorel.

“We should probably discuss this, yeah,” Bahorel nodded.

“You haven’t been keeping this from me for a long time, have you?” Jehan asked.

“Not as long as R hid kept things from Enjolras,” Bahorel shook his head. 

“But still a long time?” Jehan questioned. “Over a year?” 

“More like two and a half years,” Bahorel shrugged like it was nothing out of the ordinary for him to keep secrets for nearly three years.

“Damn,” Jehan looked quite sad at this news. “I did want to have you go through that,”

“Well, you could’ve said something,” Bahorel pointed out. “I’ve been working on the assumption that you’re straight for the last four years. Or whenever it was that we moved in here.”

“So what do you suggest we do?” Jehan asked. “It would be pretty romantic if I just kissed you right now, not gonna lie.”

“Always the romantic,” Bahorel laughed, a smile forming on his lips.

“You’d expect anything less from me at this point?” Jehan responded with a grin of his own.

“You’ll notice that I’m not protesting your suggestion,” Bahorel pointed out.

“You’re getting to be a bit of a romantic yourself, ‘Rel,” Jehan said, leaning forward and gently kissing the smaller man.

“I claim you as a bad influence,” Bahorel said, though he remained quite close to Jehan so that he could feel the poet’s breath on his lips. “I can do that, right?”

“Oh, I’m the bad influence?” Jehan asked quizzically. “I seem to recall you getting into quite a few bar fights last week, you know. And you swear more than anyone I’ve ever heard.” 

“Hey, for some reason, you find all that attractive, remember?” Bahorel reminded Jehan.

“Yes, I do,” Jehan Prouvaire nodded slowly, pressing his lips to Bahorel’s again.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Jehan and Bahorel separated and found Combeferre and Joly standing in the doorway, both looking rather alarmed at the actions of the two on the bed.

“Ever hear of knocking, ‘Ferre?” Bahorel asked in an annoyed voice.

“And it’s not like I haven’t walked in on you and Courfeyrac doing worse,” Jehan pointed out.

“Really?” Bahorel looked back at Jehan in surprise.

“That’s hardly the point,” Combeferre said.

“What’s going on?” came Courfeyrac’s voice from the living room.

“Jehan’s kissing Bahorel,” Joly called back.

“Say what now!?” Courfeyrac shouted, which was followed by some loud crashing noises and hurried footsteps.

“Courfeyrac, calm down!” exclaimed Eponine as she tried to catch him while he raced down the hall.

“Why the shit didn’t you tell me that you were going to do this, Jehan?” Courfeyrac poked his head above Joly’s shoulder, which he still had to stand on tiptoes to do. “I thought you were going to tell me if you were going to tell him!”

“Wait, we both told you how we felt about the other and you didn’t say a damn thing?” Bahorel arched an eyebrow at Courfeyrac.

“You were both giving me death threats if I ever told the other one,” Courfeyrac shrugged.

“Okay, point taken,” Jehan shrugged.

“So what are you guys going to do, then?” Eponine asked.

“Can we figure that out first?” Bahorel asked.

“What the fuck happened in here?” apparently Enjolras had been awakened by the noise and could now be heard from the living room. “Everyone had better get the fuck in here right now!”

“Best not keep him waiting,” Eponine darted back to the living room, quickly followed by those standing in the doorway.

Bahorel stood up and turned back to Jehan, offering him a hand.

“Ready?”

Jehan nodded in response.

“If you are.”


End file.
